


The Giant's Cottage

by JoansGlove



Series: Slow Dance [5]
Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-20 14:54:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11923275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoansGlove/pseuds/JoansGlove
Summary: Joan's voyage of discovery continues as her horizons widen, and her love deepens.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As always, with thanks to my dear friend, Duchess xx

Maggie could feel her resolve wavering. She’d made it clear from the outset that she thought Joan should have her own place. She had been very firm on this point. Her head told her that this was still the best arrangement but her heart, well, that was telling her something completely different…

Joan was blossoming at her grandmother’s and Maggie was intoxicated by the difference in her.

 

Joan hadn’t been idle since the move to Brisbane. She’d wandered the city’s museums and galleries and had spent hours in the central library poring over current affairs and popular culture magazines as she brought herself up to speed and, after much research at the university, she’d enrolled for a double Honours degree in Classical History and Political Sciences. It would mean the chance to study in Europe for at least a year.

Free of any real constraints in her life, Joan was eager to discover first-hand the things she’d only ever read about - and Maggie was a little ashamed that she’d once thought her naïve. Joan’s lack of worldliness was so obviously a product of living with Ivan – she had clearly shut down facets of herself to avoid disappointment but now, given free rein to explore, she was teaching herself how to cope with her new life, how to enjoy its new experiences. She was even looking forward to learning from poor choices because, as she explained, they would be _her_ choices – not ones forced upon her.

 

In preparation for her transfer to Queensland, Maggie’s employer generously provided a week’s leave to find somewhere to live, and she and Joan covered the city in a clattering old ute (on loan from Harry’s neighbour, Mick) looking at endless rental properties and places for sale until the listings were exhausted. Mercifully, she quickly found a nice little place to rent but it wouldn’t become vacant until the start of September - a month or so after she actually moved to Brisbane, so she arranged to continue lodging with a couple of women from the marketing branch who were putting her up at the minute. It was OK at their place but they were already hinting about getting her into a skirt and down the singles bar with them. Maggie shuddered in horror at the ghastly thought.

 

Their time together was precious to Maggie and, by the end of that week, she knew that her attraction to Joan was undeniable. It continued to grow and knock at her chest with every hour that passed and she sensed a fluttering in her soul that made her feel at once tender and hungry for the girl. The few days they’d spent together in Townsville had been embarrassingly uncomfortable, but this last week it had all felt so easy, so natural. If she let it, it still troubled her that she was so much older than Joan – here she was, galloping towards her mid-thirties when Joan was barely out of her teens – but when they were together the age difference seemed to disappear.

They’d grown so close already that, even as she signed the lease for the flat, she’d found herself imagining the two of them sharing lazy Sunday mornings in it. She smiled happily at the hazy fantasy of cuddling up with Joan on the sofa as they read the papers after eventually managing to make it out of bed.

 

But whilst Maggie made her plans, Joan was becoming frustrated by her lack of success. She’d been searching for much longer than Maggie yet still she couldn’t find anything she wanted to sink thousands of dollars into. All the flats and units she viewed seemed too poky to Joan, or too flimsy, and she started looking for houses instead - not expecting to find something even vaguely suitable - but prepared to consider anything as long as she didn’t feel hemmed in.

Maggie had a sneaking suspicion that Joan wouldn’t find anywhere acceptable until she finally realised that she couldn’t be persuaded to move in with her.

 

Yet the moment Joan stepped inside the funny old house she knew that it was the place for her. She fell in love with the skewed proportions and instantly named it The Giant’s Cottage. Sitting in its own gardens it had been lovingly built by a true craftsman, a very tall craftsman. Although high, the ceilings seemed too low for the doors, which themselves appeared too narrow until measured. The dimensions of each room had been perfectly calculated to allow someone of her stature (or greater) to stretch out and yet still feel cosy. And it had a Murphy bed in the back bedroom, Joan was fascinated by the way the room could be instantly streamlined by folding the bed up into the panelled cupboard.

 

But what really sold the house to Joan was the bathroom. Instead of a modest frosted window pane it boasted French doors leading onto a small balcony that ran along the back of the house, making the spacious room even airier. Before progress had got in the way, the window would have provided views of lush pasture and verdant hills but now the vista comprised of low industrial units screened by gum trees, although the far hills were still visible as a reminder of the past.

The doors though, weren’t Joan's primary focus. No, it was the bath tub (seemingly cast to the original owner’s specifications) that stood before them offering a bucolic view to the bather. It was deep enough to require a mounting block to climb in to - even with her long legs, and capacious enough to allow total immersion – no more sacrificing her knees or shoulders to the air. She coveted that bath.

 

Despite its good location, the house had been on the market for a long time. “Technically, there’s nothing wrong with the place, it’s structurally sound, it’s just the dimensions that are a little quirky – as you know,” explained the agent.

Maggie guessed that it was because it dwarfed most people, or that they were put off by its faded décor and original features. Whatever the reason, the price had steadily dropped until it was within Joan's reach. On impulse, she put in a ridiculously low offer and it was accepted.

 

Three weeks later she held the keys in her hand. Joan was elated. She felt so tremendously grown up.


	2. Chapter 2

Her back to the door, Joan was scrubbing the stone flags in the kitchen and humming loudly to herself when Maggie arrived carrying a power drill and an Eski. She was treated to the sight of Joan's lightly muscled body glowing with perspiration and straining as she pushed and pulled the brush across the rippled surface. She was barefoot and in her underwear. 

 

Maggie pemitted herself a guilty minute to ogle the beautiful creature kneeling before her, starting with the dirty soles of her feet then slowly sliding her eyes along Joan's calves and up her slender thighs to her fabulously rounded hips and arse. Her small bikini briefs stuck damply to her youthful curves and left almost nothing to the imagination as they hugged the deep cleft between her buttocks and stretched over the dark hair (currently trying to escape the confines of the narrow strip of fabric) that Maggie knew forested Joan's cunt. Her gaze travelled along her lithe back, noting how the ghost of her ribs stood out as she stretched, and up to her shoulders where the muscles bunched and flexed under the supple ivory of her shining skin. Maggie was suddenly reminded of a gazelle and she wanted to adore the beauty of it whilst, at the same time, to bite down on its slender neck and possess it totally.

 

Her eyes were drawn back to Joan's rear. There were lines on her pale skin that made Maggie grimace, she knew that they were memories of sword strokes inflicted by her own father – god rot his soul. She also knew though, that he had inflicted much deeper scars on Joan, ones that couldn’t be seen, ones that wouldn’t heal for a long time, and then only with the application of wisdom and reflection, and love. The man had been a real bastard!

But that was the past, and they were here, now, at the start of a new chapter in their lives.

 

“Hello, Scrubber!” Maggie said heartily.

Joan’s head snapped round with a gasp. “Shit! Don’t creep up on people like that!” She sat back on her haunches and took a couple of deep breaths – partly to recover from her fright and partly to counter the wave of excited embarrassment she felt at Maggie seeing her half-naked. Her skin tingled with the familiar electricity she always felt, but harder, as if the current was amplified by the sheen of sweat that coated her.

“Lucky I’m not the man from the gas board, eh?” laughed Maggie, leaning against the doorframe.

The dark-haired girl twisted to face her and grinned apologetically. “Um, I didn’t think you’d be here so early or I wouldn’t be, ah…” she indicated her bare flank with a flick of her long-fingered hand then stood and crossed to where her clothes lay on the counter top, picking up her T-shirt and mopping her face with it. It wasn’t just the unseasonal heatwave that was making her hot; Maggie's singlet clung to her in all the right places and her shorts showed off so much smooth thigh that Joan would have happily sat on the floor all day and worshipped their lightly tanned lusciousness.

 

Maggie had a brief moment to admire Joan's amazing figure before she flung the damp shirt on the side and hurriedly pulled on her cut-off dungarees to cover some of her nakedness. The silky fabric of her bra clung to her like a second skin as she leaned forward and Maggie swallowed drily as Joan’s hard-nippled breasts swung in their insubstantial casings.

Fuck! This wasn’t fair! She burned with the desire to lift Joan onto the counter and fuck her right there and then, to feel those long legs wrapped around her waist, to bury her face between her fabulous tits…

 

“I didn’t realise that it’d be such hot work!” Joan explained as she fastened the bib. “I,” she looked up and paused, the way Maggie was staring at her made Joan prickle inside. On impulse, she wiped sweat from her chest as seductively as she knew how and said, “I got to a point where I just had to strip off.” She watched her friend closely, disappointed when her hazel gaze slipped away.

“Just as well I’ve arrived bearing gifts then, isn’t it?” Banging the Eski down in the deep sink, Maggie bent over and opened it, pulling out two sodas and an ice lolly. “Just the thing to cool you off.”

Tearing her eyes away from the swell of Maggie's arse Joan grinned and reached out her hands to receive her share of the goodies. “Ohh, that’s so niiice!” she groaned as she held the instantly sweating glass bottle to her temples and stroked it over her flawless throat, the condensation mixed with her perspiration to leave heavy droplets on her skin. Maggie felt weak. She felt weaker still when Joan unwrapped the ice lolly and began to suck on it. Jesus, that mouth!

Maggie took out her cigarettes, “I’ll be back soon,” she said distractedly, alarmed at the squeakiness of her own voice, and headed outside to try and compose herself.

 

In the stuffy kitchen, Joan plucked the lolly from her mouth and pouted. This had happened a few times now - just when things seemed like they could develop into a chance for her to do something about those looks Maggie had been giving her, Maggie would make her excuses and remember something that urgently needed doing in another room. 

Joan desperately wanted to be more than friends but she couldn’t bear the thought of throwing herself at Maggie again and being pushed away, she had to be sure that she wouldn’t be making another fool of herself – she didn’t think that she’d be able to bear the humiliation a second time around…

 

Sitting in the humid shade of the rear porch Maggie pulled hard on her cigarette. She squinted at the bright jungle of a garden and waited for her pulse to stop slamming in her temples. The temptation to make a move on Joan was almost too much to resist but she was adamant that it had to be Joan who initiated things because there was still a small part of her that shouted ‘cradle snatcher’, and an even smaller part of her that alternately whispered ‘predator’ and ‘incest’ when she thought about Joan. She needed Joan to choose, or not choose, an intimate relationship with her because it was what she wanted. Maggie knew that she would wait for as long as necessary, but it was hard! And if Joan decided that friendship was all she wanted, then so be it – she’d find a way to be just that.

 

She looked up and smiled as Joan appeared in the doorway. “You alright? You forgot your pop,” she sat down next to Maggie and stretched out her improbably long legs. Inspecting her grubby toes, Joan suddenly asked, “do you think I’ve changed?”

Maggie looked quizzically at the girl, “changed how?” She took the bottle from Joan and opened it, taking a long swallow of the sweet, fizzy liquid.

Joan gave a vague shrug, “just changed. I think I have. I feel different, you know?” she had a hopeful look in her dark eyes as she turned to Maggie.

“Well, of course you’re going to feel different. Who wouldn’t coming from the situation you were in to this? It’s a big step for someone so young, but you're doing it. I’m so proud of you, Joan, I really am,” she beamed at the relieved looking girl, “but, I don’t think that you’ve changed, it’s more, well, it’s more that you are allowing yourself to be you.”

 

“To be me,” echoed Joan. “It feels really strange hearing that. I thought that I knew who I was, who I could be, but, but… oh, I don’t know, it seems a million miles from how I feel now.” She plucked at the frayed hem of her dungarees, “I keep thinking about what you said, you know, about me using my inheritance to go and see the world? I do want to, really, but at the same time I don’t want to be on my own yet.”

“Plenty of time, love.”

Joan took a deep breath, “I know why you said no, you know? That night? And to be honest with you, I’m glad you did.” Maggie's face drained of colour – what was Joan saying? That she didn’t feel the same anymore? “You were right, I _was_ upset. I wasn’t thinking clearly, but all that’s changed now.”

 

“No is a powerful word, Joan, and sometimes one of the most difficult to say, but you should never be afraid to use it if you are unsure,” Maggie laid a light hand on Joan's arm, “it doesn’t have to be set in stone, you can always change your mind later. But never say yes or do something just to please somebody else if you don’t fully believe in it, because you’ll likely grow to regret, and then resent it in the end - even if it means you lose out in the short-term. A firm, respectful ‘no’ beats a weak ‘yes’ any day of the week and people will think more of you for it.”

Joan wound an unravelling thread tightly around her finger, “not everyone…”

“Yeah, well…” Maggie took a long pull of her soda and looked out into the garden again. “Do you think about your dad much?”

“I try not to. Not because it makes me sad, but because it makes me angry.” She emphasised this last word with a sharp tug at the thread. It snapped and she inspected her darkening fingertip before loosening the impromptu tourniquet.

“Angry?”

“Yeah. When I think about all the things that he put me through, put other people through,” she looked meaningfully at Maggie, “it makes me mad.”

Maggie squeezed Joan's arm, “but if it wasn’t for him, we’d never have met, and we wouldn’t be here now.”

The genuine warmth and affection in Maggie's smile transformed her handsome features into something approaching true beauty and Joan's own flinty expression flowed into one of muted joy, “no, we wouldn’t, would we?”

 

Maggie felt the urge to kiss Joan but, instead, she patted the girl’s bony knee and stood up, “come on, I need you to hold the stepladder for me if those curtain rails are ever going up. And then, I think, everything is pretty much done, don’t you?” Joan smiled cheerfully, any excuse to stare uninterrupted at Maggie's luscious arse for minutes at a time…

 

By the time dusk fell, the cottage was totally redecorated, thoroughly cleaned, and ready for white goods and carpets, all of which were coming in the next day or two. Joan wandered through the empty rooms and hugged herself with glee - all of this was hers and no-one could take it away from her! As much as she loved her gran, Joan was eager to move into her new home but it would be at least two weeks’ wait until the murphy bed was re-sprung and a new mattress made to fit it. She was perfectly prepared to sleep on the floor and eat hot chips from newspaper in the meantime, but she didn’t want her gran to think that she was deserting her at the first opportunity.

 

However, Harry sensed Joan's urge to nest and made the decision easy for her. “Why don’t you take the stuff from your granddad’s room if you want to move in straight away?” she offered. “You’ll need a bed for the spare room anyway. You have to take the box, of course. Oh, and you should take the mirrors – every young lady should have a decent set of dressing mirrors.”

“But won’t you need them?”

“Oh, it’s not like I have overnight guests anymore, and anyway, all this moving malarkey has got me thinking about selling up and getting something smaller, perhaps on the coast somewhere. Oh, yes, that’d be nice, my own little retirement place next to the sea, yes, I can just see it now. Bernard would love it…” her eyes glazed over as she started to daydream.

“But you won’t move far, will you?” Joan's gut tightened at the thought of losing her grandmother so soon after finding her.

“Gawd no, lovey,” chuckled Harry patting Joan's hand, “there’ll be no getting away from me until the bitter end. Never you fear!”


	3. Chapter 3

Dismantling, transporting, and reassembling the solid pieces of the sleigh bed had nearly killed them but (with much cursing) it was finally done and the two friends flopped back on the mattress with loud exclamations of fatigue.

“Oof, so much work for a spare bed!”

“You're not gonna use it? But this is the best bedroom.”

Joan laughed, “god no, I can’t tell you how many nights I’ve cracked my toes on this footboard,” she tapped the glossy wood with a short fingernail. “It’ll do for now but as soon as that new mattress arrives, I’m in the other room.”

 

Joan was tingling all over. She had been on heat all day, and lying next to Maggie like this was only making it worse.

She’d woken that morning to find herself grinding her throbbing clit into the wet sheet beneath her and she’d quickly brought herself to a deep, convulsive orgasm that had left her only partially sated. She just could not get thoughts of Maggie out of her head. Images of Maggie's handsome face, her soft hazel eyes and ridiculously long lashes barrelled through Joan’s mind, as did fond memories of the way her arse moved and how her insistence on men’s shirts meant that there was always a portion of tit peeking through a gap in the buttons.

 

All morning, she’d been unable to keep her eyes off the shapely older woman and had taken every chance she could to stare down the front of Maggie's shirt, or at the small gap between her tightly trousered thighs, or at her short, dark brown hair as it curled damply behind her ear… And each time Maggie had caught her looking she had smiled wolfishly and winked before undressing Joan with her eyes, making Joan blush and shudder inwardly as the smouldering heat between her legs burst into delicious flames. She didn’t know what had changed between them this morning but she knew that it felt sinfully good.

 

She turned her face to Maggie. “I can’t believe that I’m finally moving in!”

Maggie twisted her neck and smiled at Joan's excitement. “Yeah, it’s a great little house, but can you really afford it?”

“I’ll manage fine, Maggie. But of course, you know, it’d be so much easier if I had a lodger,” she plucked at Maggie's sleeve and gave what she hoped was a sultry smile.

“You don’t say?” drawled the other woman mirthfully.

“Uh-huh, but there’s so many strange people out there, I’d much rather have someone I know move in.”

Maggie shifted a little to see Joan better. “Is that right?” she asked with a slow grin, “and did you have anyone particular in mind?”

“Oh, come on, Maggie!” urged Joan, pulling at her sleeve again, “you hate it where you are, so why not move in here with me? If only until your flat’s ready. What do you say, eh? It’ll get you away from Desperate and Dateless!”

The older woman chuckled at Joan's highly appropriate nicknames for Sue and Tracey, “I’m sorely tempted, Joan, sorely.”

 

“I’m so happy, Maggie,” said Joan staring back up at the ceiling, “I never thought that my life could be as good as this!” She closed her eyes and basked in the buzz of elation as it sang through her every fibre, an effortless grin on her wide mouth.

“This is just the start of it, Joan.”

Joan propped herself up on her elbow and gazed softly at her friend, “I know, and it’s all thanks to you.” She laid her hand over Maggie's and stroked the back of her fingers with her thumb, “if it wasn’t for your support, your belief in me, I don’t think I’d have ever made it to where I am now.” Joan leaned over and kissed Maggie's lips, sharing the salty tang of their sweat, “thank you.” She lowered her mouth to Maggie's again and thrilled as her kiss was accepted.

 

Maggie sank back as Joan explored her mouth with a tentative tongue, its soft, probing licks and sweeps broken by smiles of wonder and discovery. This was nothing like the night Joan had made that drunken pass at her and Maggie fleetingly wondered what she had been so worried about. It felt so natural, so right for this moment, and the dam of worried tension that had built up inside her broke. All her fears, her concerns, her guilt melted away with each magical touch of Joan’s liquid velvet mouth.

She was completely lost in the inky depths of Joan's intense gaze. Something in those dark eyes hooked directly into her soul and rendered all words meaningless, mere words could never convey what she was feeling in this moment, never express the profound sense of connectedness and belonging that infiltrated every cell in her body. She’d never felt like this, or this intensely about anybody and it was astounding.

 

With soft lips and gentle caresses, they mapped the other’s face, neck and throat. Warm hands flowed over ribs, hips, shoulders, leaving blazing trails that only served to inflame neglected areas. And as their kiss deepened Joan covered Maggie's body with her own. The feeling of this amazing woman beneath her, of their long legs slipping past one another’s made the burning waves of arousal flowing through her almost unbearable. It countermanded her nagging fear of the unknown, her uncertainty and her inexperience, and it gave her the strength to do what she had needed to for so long. She started to breathe heavily as her ardour mounted, the swollen flesh between her legs growing hotter and tighter and then she commandeered Maggie's mouth, hand working its way down to cup her breast as she ground her clit against Maggie's rounded thigh.

 

Maggie gave a small groan and writhed beneath Joan's touch but she twisted away, “no, Joan, not yet,” she muttered huskily, “there’s no rush. Just kiss me.” She twined her fingers in Joan's and rolled the bewitching girl onto her back, slowing the pace as she tenderly nuzzled the hollow of her velvety throat before nibbling her way up to Joan’s crimson mouth and slowly tracing the curve of her lower lip with her own.

 

But Joan wouldn’t leave her alone. She couldn’t. Rolling to face Maggie she pushed her fingers inside her friend's waistband, slipping them over the swell of her smooth hip, stroking the dimples above her buttocks then sliding them along the curve of her spine and up under her shirt to play with the edges of her bra. She kicked off her sneakers and began to rub Maggie's calf with a bare foot, her knee slipping over Maggie’s thigh until her leg was wrapped around her hip

“Hey come on, we don’t have to go so fast…”

“Who’s rushing?” she breathed around their kiss and pushed Maggie onto her back. “Do you really want to stop?” she asked, interrogating Maggie with a hot stare.

“I just don’t want you to regret this,” she whispered, smoothing dark hair from Joan's temple.

 

Straddling her thighs, Joan sat up and popped the fastenings on her dungarees, unbuttoning the sides as the heavy denim fell away to reveal her long waist and a sliver of pale belly; peeling off her T-shirt she stared pointedly at Maggie's breasts and then into her hazel eyes. “I’m not a child, Maggie,” she said breathing hard, “I know that you think that you’re protecting me in some way by taking things slow, but I don’t need protecting – I had enough of that from _him_ -  what I want is to be normal. What I want is you.” She leaned in and kissed Maggie's soft lips, pulling away to search her eyes again. “I’ve wanted you from the minute I opened that door - I want everything you’ll give me. I’m not grieving, I’m not drunk, and I’m not confused. What I think I am,” she paused and took a deep breath, “what _I am_ , is in love with you.”

 

Maggie’s expression was a mixture of tenderness and lust, and something akin to wonder as her gaze swept over Joan's torso and up to her shining eyes. “Shhh, save that for later,” she whispered and pushed herself into a sitting position.

“No, I…” her words were swallowed by Maggie’s kiss and her senses were rocked as Maggie's hand squeezed her breast. Reaching behind, Joan eagerly unhooked her bra and felt her face suddenly burn as Maggie pushed her bare tits together and dropped her mouth to suck fiercely on each jutting nipple in turn. “Ohhh, ffuck, Maggie!” she whimpered and juddered as surging waves filled her wide-open cunt with a heat so liquid and seductive that her body shook with burst after burst of pre-orgasmic spasms. 

“Good?” asked Maggie flicking her thumbs across the very tips of Joan's rosy teats. Fuck, this girl was amazing! Maggie was so slippery it was if she were sitting in hot oil.

“Mmmhhh” confirmed Joan and wrapped her hands around the back of Maggie's neck and guided her head into her cleavage. She was breathing fast and hard through her nose as her hips surged against Maggie's, pressing her aching slit into the older woman’s belly as her need grew.

 

Springy buttock filled Maggie's large hand as she slipped it between taut denim and skimpy underwear and she paused to fondle the flawless curve before siding her fingers along the deep cleft until they found their quarry. She pushed thin, damp cotton into the softness of Joan's vagina and tugged on the nipple trapped between her teeth, feeling the girl stiffen and quiver before eager hands began to yank her shirt up her ribs. Maggie let Joan slip the crumpled cotton over her head and smiled into the girl’s neck as she struggled and tried, cursing, to overcome years of habit and undo a bra from a different angle.

“Hold on,” she muttered and slipped the hooks, leaning back so Joan could slide it off her shoulders and see her tits.

“Oh, Maggie, they’re so beautiful” breathed Joan and tentatively cradled them in her hands, feeling her clit beat frantically as she gazed at the wondrous sight. Her lips found Maggie’s and she was crushed in a passionate embrace before Maggie's hand slipped down and around her backside once more and made her grind deliriously against the probing pressure.  

 

Joan slithered off the bed and pushed at her clothing until she stood naked before her open-mouthed friend. “I want you to make love to me, Maggie,” she said thickly and tangled her fingers in her dark pubes whilst holding her other hand out in invitation.

“Fucking hell, Joan!” exclaimed Maggie weakly. “Oh, fuck my days!” She quickly got naked and fell to her knees in front of this bewitching creature, kissing the opalescent skin of her quivering belly as her mouth moved towards the shining wet strip of hair that promised untold pleasure. Parting Joan's plump lips Maggie gazed at her succulent deep pink interior glistening with sweet, heady musk and her mouth watered. Tilting her head a little she stared up at Joan and slowly lapped at the sensitive folds, watching as Joan's face creased and slackened then creased again as she discovered just what a strong, wet, and devoted tongue could do.

 

For a moment, Maggie floated in pure rapture as she worshiped at Joan's altar. Everything about the young woman wrapped around her face was rapturous, and once more Maggie felt the joyful sense of connectedness and belonging that had flooded her soul with Joan's first kisses. Then the animal took over and she greedily buried her face in Joan's cunt, taking as much as she gave as she lost herself in the sweet, slippery core of her young goddess.

 

Nothing Joan had done to herself had prepared her for the feeling of another person’s mouth on her sex. She forgot to breathe as her body twitched and heaved with the explosive array of new sensations and, as the indescribable pleasure built, her brain started to short circuit and Joan's legs trembled and buckled, “the bed,” she managed to gasp, untangling her fingers from Maggie's hair, “… on the bed.”

In one fluid move Maggie rose to her feet, lifted Joan in her arms and flung her into the middle of the mattress. Electricity crackled in the air between them as both women devoured the other with ravenous eyes then Maggie covered Joan's glorious body with her own and she groaned at the burning current that surged from Joan's feverish skin and bit deep at her core. The girl pressed herself so hard against Maggie that she swore she could feel Joan’s heart beating in her own chest, and she shuddered as her clit, scraping against Joan's hip, grew harder still until it pulsed with a painful need for release.

 

Never had she felt like this, so completely sure that this was what she needed, absolutely convinced that this was right, and she knew that she would never willingly leave Maggie. Never. She kissed her lover deeply, tasting her own scent on Maggie’s tongue, craning her neck forward to maintain contact for as long as possible before Maggie’s mouth slipped down to her tits and her hand flowed to the thudding need between Joan’s legs.

Fingers swirled at the entrance of her vagina and pushed gently at her greedy flesh, and Joan let out a sobbing moan, “oh, god, yes, Maggie!” Her belly arced as she was filled and fucked, and her own fingers unconsciously clawed at Maggie's strong back and hot scalp as a shimmering tension built up inside her.   

 

Joan's rigid nipple filled her mouth as Maggie drew firm, young flesh between her lips with sucking bites. It felt so perfect on her hot tongue and Maggie buried her face in the pillow of Joan's satiny breast, her eyes rolling up in their sockets as she worked her sweating body against the delicious curves of her lover. She groaned deep in her throat at the grinding tension it built in her belly.

Sliding her fingers from the tight grip of Joan's fluttering vagina, Maggie skated her slippery fingertips over and around swollen inner lips, following them as Joan bore down on the mattress at the change in sensation, then massaging her neglected clit. She felt her own jerk and throb until her hips were bucking and her cunt was clenching like a fist with the sheer force of her arousal.

 

She wanted to make Joan come, and she wanted to feel the evidence running down her face.

 

Knee wedged against the unforgiving footboard, Maggie pushed another finger inside and jammed her open jaws against Joan's slash of glorious, shining pink. Chin brushing her palm, she drew the succulent flesh deep into her hot mouth and tongued it until Joan was shaking and bucking on the bare mattress, her hands braced against the solid expanse of the headboard as she thrust against Maggie's driving fingers. With a twist of her wrist, Maggie rubbed Joan's g-spot with her knuckles and raised herself up from the damp forest that tickled her cheeks and nose to stare along the ivory planes of Joan’s body and into the compelling intensity of her glittering obsidian eyes. “You OK?” she asked breathlessly.

“Oh, fuck!” gasped Joan, “please, please don’t stop doing that! … Jesus!” she felt as if she were made from thousands of needles of light, each hair-fine shaft vibrating against its neighbour as an indefinable yet compelling feeling surged and broke, surged and broke, surged and broke until every inch of her body was buzzing like a neon light.

 

Maggie blew a stream of cool air over Joan's large clit, making it twitch under its thin hood, before lowering her soft tongue once more to the swollen pearl. She watched as Joan began to lose control of herself, gasping whimpers escaping her ivory throat with every ragged breath she snatched.

Flattening her tongue, Maggie focused on licking Joan from her well of sweet, frothy secretions to the tip of her swollen peak as it grew so incredibly hard, and then she turned her dedicated attention to flicking the knotted cord of nerves above Joan’s clit up to the point where it burrowed under the soft furred mound of her mons. Joan gripped Maggie's head between her long thighs and started to moan hoarsely in time to the passes of her tongue.

 

The tight sweetness of her approaching orgasm gripped her lower belly and spread its signals out along her inner thighs, making Joan twist and writhe as she urged Maggie to fuck her, fuck her harder and never stop!  Her hands flew from the headboard and she pressed the back of one wrist against her open mouth, forcing her swollen lips against her teeth and muffling the cries that rang loudly in her ears as the other found her breasts and she began plucking at her nipples. Her hips were yanked downwards as Maggie added more pressure to her singing clit, ramming her fingers into her deep and hard.

 

And then she felt it. That infinitesimal pause in time where everything bled effortlessly together and a strange, muted calm descended, giving way to a pure sense of blissful satisfaction before she was thrown back into the initial paralysing, blinding spasm of climax, her senses suddenly assaulted once more by the immensity of her pleasure.

Wave after wave of crushing bliss pinned her hips to the mattress as her limbs twitched and shook, galvanised by Maggie's unwavering touch. She came so hard that her diaphragm locked and she hovered on the edge of blackness, crimson lips drawn back in a frozen grimace of ecstasy, before her body relented and she sucked in a deep, quivering breath, squeezing it from her throat as she was dragged beneath another swell of exquisite exhilaration.

 

Joan lay totally stunned. She felt as if the world had exploded, every bad thing in it blown away to be replaced by the warm assurance of contented serenity. As Maggie sat up, Joan watched her legs slide bonelessly over her shining shoulders, her hot skin burning with the ghost of Maggie's lips as they kissed their way from sticky inner thighs to the ticklish soles of her feet. She gazed dreamily at her sweaty lover, her heavy eyes drifting over Maggie's glistening face and neck to her delicate collar bones before they fell on her jutting breasts tipped with beautifully large, swollen brown nipples. Joan held out her hand and Maggie took it.

 

The older woman cradled Joan in her arms, tenderly stroking her damp, pearly skin as she rode the last ripples of her orgasm. “You're so beautiful, Joan,” she told her. “So damn beautiful it hurts.”

“No, I’m not,” mumbled Joan into her chest. She was as plain as could be and Maggie knew it.

Maggie lifted Joan's chin and stared hard into her eyes. “Trust me, Joan. You. Are. Beautiful.” She brushed Joan's fringe from her forehead and kissed it softly, “this is beautiful, and this,” she kissed the tip of Joan's nose, “and these,” Maggie brushed Joan's lips with her own, opening them a little as Joan's tongue flickered out and tasted her own musk.

 

Joan began to kiss Maggie more forcefully, sucking and chewing on her lips, tongue filling her mouth with a moan as her hand crept up Maggie's flat midriff and into the valley between her breasts. Her fingers followed the silky-smooth swell and quickly found a nipple. Joan’s skin prickled and her cheeks burned as her hand roamed over the amazingly soft and pliant treasure. The effect on Maggie was instant, a low groan filled her throat and she ground her thighs together as her throbbing clit hammered and pulsed.

“Suck them, Joan,” she demanded and pushed at the girl’s slim shoulders.

 

A deep, hard, delicious ache consumed her cunt at the first silky touch of Joan's tongue and she writhed in its grip. Her hot juices flowed unchecked and her damp thighs became slipperier and slipperier until it felt as if she were coated in oil. Maggie raised her arm and slipped her hand behind her head, gripping her short hair tightly as she arched into Joan. Fuck! This was divine but she needed to feel Joan between her legs. “Oh god, touch me, Joan,” she moaned and guided Joan's right hand down towards her triangle of thick, sticky curls.

Cupping Maggie's wet sex in her hand Joan felt suddenly shy and unsure of what to do next. She looked up into Maggie’s face and asked timidly, “h-how do you want me to touch you?”

 

Remembering just how awkward and uncoordinated she’d been during her first time, Maggie smiled in soft encouragement, “like this,” she said reassuringly. Maggie guided Joan's fingers into the thick, wet heat of her swollen channel and showed her where she needed to be touched, how she needed to be touched. First, encouraging Joan to rub the underside of her clit, then to trap her inner lips between her long fingers and tease them until the small muscles in her groin contracted and she felt her clit become diamond hard. She was so turned on, so close to coming. Twisting on her hip, Maggie turned herself into Joan and took charge of her fingers once more. Together they plastered Maggie's clit with her abundant flood of musky juices and then, using the hood to cushion the glans, Maggie began circling Joan's fingertips around the solid fleshy peak. Her body shook, then shook again. “Ohhhh, ffffuuuuuck!” she whimpered between heavy panting.

“More?” asked Joan, transfixed by the rapture on Maggie's handsome face. She felt such a sense of joy that she could make someone feel like this.

“Mhmmmmm…” confirmed Maggie. She was going to come any second now.

 

Smearing more viscous, velvety lubricant over the contours of Maggie's silken flesh, Joan redoubled her fingers’ efforts and her mouth found a pointed nipple and she began to suck and lick the rubbery teat as if her life depended on it. Hard fingers wound themselves into her thick hair and she felt a strong leg slip up her own and clamp itself over her waist as Maggie clung to her in her mounting excitement, her urgent moans reverberating in the hot air of the bare room. Maggie's clit was like an oiled marble, slipping away from her touch as her lover started to rock her hips and groan hoarsely. Joan tried her best to keep up the fast and furious rhythm but her wrist was at an awkward angle and her fingers had almost seized up, but it didn’t seem to matter as Maggie frantically rubbed her cunt against Joan's hand, then, suddenly froze before dissolving into a series of helpless, shuddering convulsions.

 

Maggie consciousness hung in a blissful amniotic darkness as her body exploded into light. She felt for a moment as if she were made of the sparks from a thousand fireworks and, as their brilliance died, she sank into the dark, delicious pull of her climax, feeling it spread like warm, black treacle through every nerve, twisting her to its will in the most exquisite ways imaginable.

 

Falling back on the mattress, Maggie covered Joan's hand with her own, twitching at the added pressure on her sensitive sex, and gently drew it up to her quivering belly. Her fingers found the small cowlick in the nape of Joan's neck and she absently stroked her sweaty hair with her nails. Unable to marshal any coherent thought she gave a happy sigh and grinned lazily at the amazing young woman curled around her before letting her head loll backwards and closing her eyes to savour the moment.

 

“Hey, Maggie?” Joan asked shyly after a few minutes, “let me see you?” her fingertips played tentatively on Maggie's belly. Lifting her head, Maggie smiled in assent, letting her hand fall from Joan's neck as she pushed herself up onto her elbows and widened her tanned thighs to accommodate Joan's inquisitiveness.

Kneeling between Maggie's bent legs Joan gazed in wonder at her crumpled, swollen interior; at her gleaming folds, the dusky purplish-brown of faded rose petals; at her ruby clit nestled in its delicate pink shroud; at her plump outer lips plastered with whorls of sodden brown hair. A deep flush crawled over her chest and up to her cheeks as her clit began to pulse strong and deep. Leaning closer she reached out and reverently stroked the coffee coloured edges of Maggie's inner labia, marvelling at their soft, silky texture, at how they parted effortlessly to reveal the delicate pink oval blaze that framed her vagina. Raising her eyes, she met Maggie's lustful stare and slowly rubbed her lover's thick come into her captivating folds until Maggie's hips began to rotate and her breathing became laboured once more.

 

Feeling bold, Joan pushed two thick fingers into Maggie's hot, soft core and smiled with pleasure as the other woman gasped and flung her head back with a deep groan. A groan that became a low growl as Joan’s fingers swirled deep inside her and her stiffening clit was gently tickled with light sweeps of her thumb. Without breaking eye contact, Joan pushed two fingers inside her own cunt and started to ride them with slow thrusts of her hips.

Desire filled Maggie like a firestorm. “Kiss me,” she demanded and surged forward. She grabbed Joan by the back of her neck and dragged her into a deep, furious kiss, refusing to release her as she blindly located a firm breast and squeezed it with passionate need. Joan flowed with Maggie as she pushed her hard against the footboard. Maggie gripped the smooth wooden curve and hauled herself into Joan's lap, her open thighs pinning Joan's to the bed as she ground urgently against her busy fingers.

 

Wetness coated her palm as her fingers rasped over Maggie's swollen g-spot and Joan pressed it firmly against the hard nub of her clit, tugging at Maggie's bottom lip with her teeth as she rubbed against her own squelching knuckles. She slid her ring finger into Maggie's molten hole, feeling hot muscles flex and clench as she squeezed her partner’s sex hard. Maggie hissed and threw her head back.

“Jesus, Joan! Fucking jeeesus!” howled the buxom brunette as, deep in her belly, tight strings of ecstasy were plucked until they reverberated through her like a sonic boom. Her face fell forward once more and, cheek pressed hard into Joan's sweaty temple, Maggie rocked hard and fast, her whole body taut with impending orgasm. Her whimpers began to rise in pitch until she was almost keening and then, all the breath was knocked from her chest.

 

Maggie's teeth snapped shut as the jolting, bucking climax shook her sweating frame. She writhed against Joan, crushing her into the smooth wooden plank at her back in her frenzy, pressing against her hot, ivory skin as she fizzed and burned through her shuddering descent, to collapse spent and breathless on Joan's heaving breast. Maggie jerked limply as Joan's fingers slipped from her cunt and she slid down Joan's long body and gleaming, slippery thighs until she was lying in her lap, her face so close to Joan's hot slit that every breath was perfumed by her deep, rich scent.

“Come for me, Joan,” she urged, staring at Joan's wet fingers slipping between her glistening labia.

“Would you hold me, Maggie?”

“Of course, my darling,” she murmured and moved shakily to Joan's side.

Uncurling her stiff legs, Joan half-rose and kissed Maggie voraciously, gripping her face with hot, wet fingers whilst raking her scalp with short nails as she scoured Maggie's tongue with her own; then Joan slid into her lap, forcing her thighs apart, and lay back against the hot, solid body of the woman she loved.

 

Maggie curled her limbs around her shining girl, hugging her tight, and surrendered to the soporifically liquid sense of complete connection. Pressing her jaw hard against the side of her head she inhaled the salty tang of Joan's sweat laced with the sharper scent of her natural fragrance and she squeezed the thin girl in her embrace all the harder. They belonged, she thought suddenly, forever and always.

Joan's hand disappeared between her thighs once more and, turning her face to Maggie’s, she asked, “touch me? Play with my nipples?”

 

Gently, she began the rub the wrinkled, rosy peaks that stared up at her from Joan's beautiful, buoyant breasts. She circled the hard, swollen tips before stroking their pinnacles.

“Do it harder…” breathed Joan as shivering tingles flowed into her cunt, “pinch them!”

“like this?” asked Maggie, rolling them between thumb and forefinger, “harder?” she asked again, tightening her grip a little.

“Mmmmh, harder!” Oh god! This was so much better than her fantasy!

“How about this?” Maggie increased the pressure a little more and twisted Joan's nipples a quarter turn. She thrilled darkly at the discovery of Joan's taste for a little pain.

“Aaaaahhhh!” a bolt of electricity burst through her slippery sex and she rubbed her clit frantically. She could feel the predictable flood of thick, hot wetness oozing from her clutching hole. “More!” she demanded hoarsely and drew up her knees, resting her feet on Maggie's as she thrust against her fingers.

 

Scouring a hard palm up the slope of Joan's breast and over her collarbone, Maggie softly choked her. “Come for me, Joan,” she whispered hotly, her words crashing thickly in Joan's ear before skating her fingers back down to her jiggling breast. Maggie gripped Joan’s reddened nipples and rolled her wrists, wrapping the burning tips over her thumbnails as she dug her fists into the soft, pillowy meat below. “Come for me, come now…”

 

“Don’t let go! Don’t let go! Don’t let go!” chanted Joan as, hand pushing hard against Maggie's thigh, she stiffened, her fingers digging into tanned flesh as she coaxed the most outrageously glorious feelings from her cunt. She was so incredibly swollen, so intensely alive to every sweet, sweet touch from her fingers and the driving throb that coursed through her breasts and filled her whole groin with a joyously incessant clenching. Eyes closed, Joan threw her head back into Maggie's chest as richly coloured darkness cloaked her senses, each new sensation signalling a change in its hue until a shining silver point formed deep down inside her belly, gathering mass before it detonated its devastating arsenal of bliss. Joan fell through time, through space. There was nothing but the nameless, all-consuming joy and paralysing pleasure.

 

Maggie clung to Joan, feeling her ankles crack and her spine grate against unyielding wood as the girl’s muscles strained and she forced hissing grunts from between clenched teeth. As Joan body began to slacken, she gently released her brutal pinch and softly squeezed Joan's breasts, soothing her nipples, feeling her wince then writhe in pleasure at their soreness

Slowly Joan surfaced from the maelstrom and she strung out the delicious, grinding aftershocks with the tiniest, lightest strokes of her fingertips and the subtlest changes in their pressure. She was awed at how such delicate actions could produce such glorious feelings, could reduce her to a hot puddle of sexual abandonment. She felt herself pushed forward as Maggie sat up then a hot mouth descended on her neck and she melted all over again, hunching over as her cunt gave one last volley.

 

Maggie pulled Joan down onto the mattress and spooned her tightly, littering her neck and shoulder with soft kisses as her fingers dreamily stroked the fine skin below her breasts.

What was the etiquette in this situation? Joan twisted in Maggie's arms and gazed into her smiling eyes. Words of gratitude and amazement bubbled in her throat and at last she managed, “oh my god, Maggie. Oh, my fucking god!”

“It should be me saying that, Joan. You're totally fucking amazing!” she gently tucked Joan's unruly hair behind her ear and traced the line of her delicate neck with her thumb, bringing it to rest in the shallow, gleaming hollow of her throat.

“Really?” her eyes widened in delight and no small measure of relief.

“Bloody oath,” said Maggie in her best Bogan accent and kissed her softly.

 

Joan let out a long sigh and skimmed the smooth curve of Maggie's hip with a languid hand, “I never thought it would be like that! I was so nervous, I can’t believe I made you come!”

“That’s because we have a connection, Joan,” Maggie's smile was so tender it transformed her handsome features into a rare beauty, “it makes what we have extra special.” She lovingly caressed Joan's cheek with the backs of her curled fingers.

Joan gave a shy smile and brushed Maggie's knuckles with her lips, “I was so scared to kiss you in case you said no again. Even after the way you’d been letting me stare at you earlier.” Joan's forehead creased in a soft frown, “I still can’t work out what made you do that. I mean, yesterday you were the same as always – so, so… neutral - and today? Well, today... Oof!”

 

Maggie thought hard for a second or two as she pinpointed the moment of revelation. “It was when you introduced me to your grandmother as your friend.” Joan looked mystified. “I realised that I didn’t want you to call me your friend any longer. I wanted you to call me your lover, your partner. And so, when I saw you staring at me like that, I encouraged it. Especially after our talk on the porch the other day - I needed to know that you still wanted me.” Her eyes conveyed the worry she’d felt, the self-imposed uncertainty that had dogged her for weeks.

“But, Maggie, I came to Brisbane for you!” exclaimed Joan in astonishment, “I’ve spent as much time as humanly possibly with you. I’ve even asked you to live with me…” she searched Maggie's eyes, “couldn’t you see how much I was into you?”

“I couldn’t be 100% sure, Joan. I, I just didn’t want to take advantage of you. I didn’t want you to think that you had to sleep with me just to remain friends. Daft old biddy, aren’t I, eh?” She lowered her long lashes and flashed an embarrassed smile.

Joan's face split into a wide grin and she prodded Maggie playfully in the belly, “bloody oath you are!” she chuckled and cuddled into her lover.


	4. Chapter 4

Dating after fucking? Joan made it clear that she thought that Maggie was shutting the barn door after the horse had bolted, after all, she argued, how long had they known each other? Just because they’d known each other for years, countered Maggie it didn’t mean that they knew each other well - Joan may find that there were things about her that she didn’t like. If this was going to work then they had to be honest with each other, there were things that they could talk about now, needed to talk about, that had been held in check over the last couple of months or so.

 

One of the first things Maggie took pains to explain to Joan was how people would view them as a couple. She was acutely aware that the way she chose to present herself was far from the feminine ideal, and whilst she took pride in wearing what made her feel good, it could draw unwanted attention. Couple this with Joan's striking looks and her youth, she said, and people might get upset. They would likely face anything from being snubbed in a restaurant, to cat calls, all the way to direct confrontation and assault, and if they chose to show open affection then it was almost guaranteed. Was she prepared for that? she asked.

 

“But this is the City! There’s got to be a place for us in it somewhere?”

“Yes, this is a city, but it’s not like San Francisco, or New York, or even Melbourne. This is fucking Queensland, Joan! You do know that it’s legal to kill a homosexual as long as you say you were scared that they were going to molest you? There are precious few places for us to be ourselves.”

Joan took a slow mouthful of wine and studied Maggie's solemn face, “would you change yourself if you could?”

“You mean, if I could, would I choose to be straight?” Joan nodded, her eyes large and dark. “No, I wouldn’t, I like who I am. I never deny what I am but I don’t necessarily choose to advertise it either. Instead, I think that I would choose a world where it didn’t matter who I sleep with, or how I do it either. It’s happening, Joan, the seeds have been sown - I just hope I get to see them bear fruit in my lifetime.”

 

But as always, happiness makes people careless…

 

It was the end of their fourth date. Tonight, Joan had decided to wear her most stylish (and daring) top – a fine mohair sweater with batwings, a slashed neckline at the front and with a vee so deep it was almost backless. She knew just how perfectly it moulded to her pert breasts and that every movement threatened to send it sliding forward off her shoulder, but then, that was the whole point of wearing it – to make Maggie weaken and side-line her early night and breakfast meeting in favour of spending the night with her at the cottage. She knew she was being selfish but she wanted Maggie so much she felt drunk. She wanted to spend every minute she could with her lover, even if that meant not playing fair.

 

They’d eaten at an intimate little bistro and then moved on to the quieter of town’s two gay bars where they had cuddled into a corner until last orders were called. Time and again, Maggie's fingers were drawn to the soft warmth of Joan's bare skin. She’d spent all evening trying not to stare solely at Joan's chest, at the way her nipples poked through the pale grey knit, but she was a slave to the compulsion to touch and stroke Joan's back and shoulders. The heat from the velvety surface was calling to her base need and she knew that it wouldn’t take much for her to lose her resolve and go home with her tonight.

 

Pulling up outside Maggie’s lodgings Joan turned off the ute’s ignition and released her seatbelt in readiness. Sliding across the bench seat she twisted to meet Maggie, swinging her legs over her lap, and fell into the older woman’s kiss. She moaned softly as Maggie's fingers fluttered along her jaw then down her throat to her collar bone, desperate for her to go further. Maggie's kisses made her weak at the knees and Joan was so wet, so quickly, it was almost indecent.

Without breaking the kiss, she slipped Maggie's hand over her left breast and leaned in to snake her own down to Maggie's hip and under the waistband of her tight trousers.

“Oh, fuck, Joan…!” Maggie’s thumb found the swollen nipple and began to tease its stiff peak. She covered Joan's mouth with her own as the bewitching child moaned in delight.

 

Joan shuddered in divine pleasure, Maggie’s hand felt so good but she wanted more and tugged her sweater off her shoulders, pulling at it until gravity took over and it slithered down towards her lap. She drew Maggie's hand out from beneath the fabric and curled it around the tingling swell of her needy breast. Her whole body surged as her nipple was caught and rolled between strong fingers and she shook as explosions went off inside her knickers. “Oh, god, Maggie, ohhhh…!”

 

Slim thighs jerked against her own and Maggie felt her shirt-tail pulled out and then a hot hand thrust its way up her ribs. “Not here, not now,” she muttered distractedly around their kiss. She couldn’t afford to be discovered like this, squirming in her seat and draped in a half-naked girl. “Stop it!”

“Shhh,” whispered Joan and sucked on Maggie's neck.

“I mean it, someone will see us!”

Her fingertips found the start of Maggie's bra, “so … come back with me. We don’t have to do anything else… I promise.” Her tongue flickered over Maggie's sensitive earlobe.

“No?”  She knew exactly what would happen if she relented.

“No. I just don’t want tonight to end, I want to be with you, that’s all.” Joan's hand was inside Maggie's bra.

“Joan, stop,” she moaned half-heartedly, “you know I can’t.”

“No such thing as can’t, you managed it OK last time. Please? I’m not going to see you all week…” She sighed theatrically as Maggie extricated her enthusiastic hand from her underwear.

“You’ll cope. This meeting is important, Joan, I need to be sharp.” She laughed at Joan’s pout and whispered conspiratorially, “I can’t tip up reeking of cunt and thinking of the hot girl I should still be fucking, no matter how much I want to.”

 

Hitching Joan's sweater back into proper position, Maggie winked and slid along the seat, “patience, my dear, some things are worth waiting for.” She opened the door and slipped out, pausing as Joan scooted after her.

“Are you sure I can’t change your mind?” Staring at her lover with liquid puppy dog eyes, Joan tugged the hem of her pencil skirt up around her hips and stroked her visibly wet crotch.

Maggie leaned through the window and shook her head with a rueful chuckle, “no. Now, you be good and I’ll see you on Saturday.” She smiled and planted a lingering kiss on Joan's lips, headlights splashing over them as she playfully reached over and gave Joan's breast a farewell squeeze.

 

She was waving Joan off when Maggie heard her name being called. Christ, it was Tracey! The realisation of what she must have seen slapped every trace of arousal out of her.

“That was your young friend, wasn’t it?” asked Tracey archly. “What’s her name now? Joan?”

“You know it was.” Maggie sniffed the air between them, “drink driving again, Tracey? One of these days you’ll get caught.”

Tracey ignored her, “saying goodnight, were you? Well, I suppose you can’t really invite her in for coffee, can you?”

“What’s your point?”

 “I had my suspicions but Sue said I was wrong, reckon I’m not, eh?” Her eyes narrowed maliciously, “it’s not normal.”

“Well, Tracey,” sighed Maggie, “it’s a sad thing to admit, but we can’t all be a cock hungry whore like you. However, I’ll thank you to keep what you think you know to yourself.”

“Who are you to tell me what to do? I’ll tell who I please – people need to know about you so they can protect themselves!”

“No, you’re right, I can’t stop you blabbing if you really want to. But remember this, if you do that, then maybe I’ll have to tell some people about your weekend coke habit, or maybe I should tell them about how you caught the clap and infected all those men, after all, people need to know about you so that they can protect themselves.” Tracey’s mouth hung open as she tried to work out how Maggie knew all of this. “Just think on it, Tracey, I don’t make idle threats.” Maggie pushed past the small-minded bitch but paused half-way to the unit, “you can tell that to Sue too,” she called over her shoulder, “there’s a few things I know about her that I’m sure she’d like to keep private.” 

 

 

*****

 

Desperate and Dateless told Maggie to move out - and to do it now. They didn’t want her there now that they knew what she was. All of a sudden, they thought that they were in danger of being ravished - as if saying the word lesbian suddenly made them more attractive to Maggie. This wouldn’t have been a problem if her flat had been ready when it was supposed to have been - she could easily afford a few nights at a motel - but some cock-up with the scheduled renovations meant that the tradies wouldn’t even be starting the work until after she should have moved in. With some persuasion, she had finally agreed to Joan's offer of her spare room, and despite Joan's assurances that she understood Maggie's need for her own place, Maggie still had her reservations.


	5. Chapter 5

After a long day of slashing and burning in the garden Joan was a sight to behold, her pale skin patterned in a piebald mix of dirt, soot and sweat, and she stank of sweetly acrid wood smoke. It had been quite therapeutic wielding the machete, similar yet so different from her fencing blades, and she hadn’t been able to stop herself practising a few moves on the creeping vines that choked a hidden arbour. But she needed a bath! She’d already negotiated the temperamental intricacies of the boiler whilst her new mattress was being delivered and with any luck, the water would soon be hot enough to get clean without shivering whilst admiring her hard work from the open windows.

 

She still couldn’t get used to her new bath, it was rather disconcerting to be able to float freely but decadently luxurious all the same. Joan idly splashed milky water over the small islands formed by her breasts and thighs and thought about how tonight would be Maggie's first night in the house, how they would be sleeping in the same bed like a proper couple. Her lips tingled with memories of Maggie's caresses and her fingertips lightly circled her rapidly hardening nipples until they stood like wrinkled pink volcanoes

 

The front door crashed open. “Joan, can you come and help me?”

“Can’t,” she shouted, “I’m in the bath.”

After much banging, the door slammed shut and moments later Maggie appeared on the landing hefting a large suitcase. She deposited it in the spare room and returned to the open doorway. Leaning casually against the frame she joked, “it’s a bit early for bath-time, isn’t it?”

Rolling in the water, Joan grabbed the edge of the tub and levered her head above the sloping curve of the rim to see Maggie. The white enamelled iron was cold against her breasts as she rested her chin on her forearm. “If you’d seen the state of me earlier you’d have hosed me down in the yard before even letting me up here. I was _filthy_!” Her eyes swept Maggie's strong curves and she smiled devilishly.

 

Maggie, whose thoughts had been running along the same lines as Joan's flirted back. “You mean I’ve missed you being a dirty girl?”

Hot water enveloped her breasts again as she drew her feet up beneath her, “Mhmm, you missed me being all slippery and soapy too, but I’m worried I may have missed a bit,” she said mischievously and rose from the water like Aphrodite emerging from the sea, “would you mind checking?”

“Oh, fucking hell, Joan!” moaned Maggie weakly as her clit jerked between her thighs, “what are you trying to do to me?” Try as she might, she couldn’t tear her eyes from Joan's glistening body. The girl was pure perfection.

“You know exactly what I’m trying to do,” said Joan with a saucy grin.

Maggie gave a low whistle and approached the large bath, unbuttoning her shirt as she crossed the shining tiled floor, “trust me, you’ve succeeded!”

 

*******

 

“You make it too easy for me to want to stay here, Joan, you know that? I’m almost glad my flat isn’t ready.” They’d moved out of the bathroom and lay in a tangle of towels on Joan's new bed.

“Mmmm, I’m very glad that your flat isn’t ready,” replied Joan as she nuzzled the soft skin behind Maggie's ear.

Fingering a lock of Joan's damp hair Maggie chuckled softly, “I know you are, but it’s just not practical and you know it. Living this side of the city adds so much time onto my commute every day that it’s hardly worth coming home. I don’t want you to have to put up with me when I’m all stressed out and cranky after a long day, or waiting up for me when I’ve been out entertaining clients.” She squirmed as Joan licked her earlobe.

“What if I buy you a car?” she whispered.

Maggie pulled away and stared at Joan in disbelief. “There’s no way I’m going to let you do that for me, Joan. Anyway, surely you can’t afford it,” she stated softly.

“You let me worry about what I can and can’t afford,” said Joan a little too primly. “Look,” she explained in a gentler tone, “I know the value of a dollar, and if I say I can, then I can. Okay?” she smiled reassuringly and planted a small kiss on Maggie's lips.

 

“You’re not buying a car for me to use, Joan. If I want one in the next fortnight then I’ll rent one.  Look,” she said, trying to diffuse the tension, “you know how much I love being with you, and it’s always exciting at the start of a new relationship, but - as much as I want to spend every minute with you like this,” she fleetingly fondled Joan's nipple, “- you need time to yourself, and so do I. Pretty soon you’ll be at Uni and I’ve got work; we’ll be making new friends… we just can’t be living in each other’s pockets, it’s as simple as that.”

“Well, you know best,” retorted Joan testily.

“Yes, I do. And I’m old enough now to know not to risk a good thing by being greedy. Like Mae West once said, ‘too much of a good thing _is_ wonderful’, but it can burn you up – I don’t want that for us, Joan. I couldn’t bear it.”

The sincerity in Maggie's eyes melted Joan's pique. She could cope with not getting what she wanted because she trusted and respected what Maggie was saying, but she couldn’t help wishing that it was otherwise… 


	6. Chapter 6

Five years ago, she’d sat down to a birthday dinner with two of the people she most disliked in the entire world and had lost one of the most important people in her life. Tonight, she was dining with her two most favourite people, neither of whom Joan had ever expected to meet again, but the party was still missing one more important guest – her mother. Being here tonight was almost more than Joan could ever have imagined. Less than six months ago she had been trapped in a miserable existence with a dangerous man, cowed and cut off from all feeling but now….? Now she was waking up, reconnecting with herself and discovering a life where she could set her own boundaries - if she chose to.

She remembered how natural it had felt to push boundaries with Nils, to break the small rules, to slide under the bigger ones… She knew that his birthday card would have arrived at her old house by now – she wondered if the new owners would forward it – but she also knew that, as usual, there would be no return address on it. She still missed him.

 

They’d agreed to rendezvous with Harry in the restaurant bar after Bingo, and the old lady was in high spirits – quite literally – as she sipped her cocktail and chatted with the barman. “Coo-ee! Girls!” she called as she caught sight of them and beckoned exuberantly with a gloved hand. With a look of polite relief, the barman excused himself.

 

Not wishing to arouse Harry’s suspicions without at least testing the waters first, the two of them had agreed to try and play it cool in front of her until she and Maggie were better acquainted, and Maggie knew that her favourite grey pinstripe with its crimson silk lining was a dead giveaway to all but the most unobservant – and from what she’d already seen, Harry had a sharp eye. So, Maggie had opted for a softer look than usual and had decided to wear a flowing black trouser suit over a simple satin camisole in sea-green. The barest touch of blush and mascara accentuated her large eyes and the dark flash of blue fire opals in the hollow of her tanned throat and at her ear lobes brought out the green in their soft hazel. She considered this her ‘straight camouflage’, conventional and non-threatening.

 

Harry looked truly striking as she slipped from the high bar stool, and Maggie felt a guilty flush creep up her neck as she admired the older woman. Her grey hair had been swept up into a curling chignon, dark strands swirling intermittently against the pewter shine, and she wore a dark blue dress that modestly accentuated the swell of her broad hips and bottom, and hinted at a generous bosom. The structured shawl collar exposed the curve of her pale neck and framed her strong face beautifully. Smooth forearms peeked out between the ¾ length sleeves and her French navy kid gloves.

Maggie had a sense akin to aura vu, would this be Joan in thirty-odd years? She hoped that she’d be there to find out. “Oh, very Bardot,” she flattered and smiled in greeting, kissing Harry on the cheek.

“Oh, thank you, Margaret. Yes, it’s one of my favourites.” She leaned in conspiratorially, “I had to tighten my girdle a bit to zip it up though. Don’t let me eat too much tonight or I’ll be in real strife later! Not like you, look at this tiny waist of yours,” she admired, and stroked the kimono-style belt that cinched Maggie’s jacket closed.

 

“Oh, and look at our Joanie,” Harry exclaimed proudly, her husky voice rising in delight as she turned to her granddaughter, “my, but don’t you look just gorgeous!”

Joan had chosen to wear her grey batwing sweater again and had teamed it with a calf-length, tailored skirt, stylishly split to the thigh. Three-inch spike heels and an envelope clutch bag, both in gleaming black patent leather, completed her look. She’d experimented with a little light make-up and the effect was stunning. Her smouldering, exotic beauty caught even the casual observer unawares and she left a trail of open mouths in her wake.

Maggie dearly wished that Joan could have worn some form of underwear beneath that sweater, anything to lessen the way that the fine knit clung to the swell and thrust of her juicy tits, just something to mask the peaks of her succulent nipples. Fuck, she was having a hard time keeping her eyes above Joan's neck!

 

“Hello, Gran,” Joan half-crouched and hugged Harry, giving her a big kiss on the side of her madder red mouth, “you look pleased with yourself,” she said straightening up.

“And so I should do!” exclaimed Harry, “I won a hundred dollars on the half-time sweepstake!”   
“Half-time? I thought it was bingo, not footie,” teased Joan as she adjusted her sweater.

“Even the most refined ladies, such as myself, can’t last without a comfort break between light refreshments, Darl,” chuckled Harry. “Speaking of which,” Harry summoned the barman, “Jonathan, my good man! More drinks if you would.”

“Certainly, Madame, another Tom Collins for you, and for your friends?” he asked looking towards Joan and Maggie.

“Ooh, I think I’ll have a Rob Roy straight up,” grinned Maggie, rubbing her hands together in anticipation, “what about you, Joan?”

“Um, I’m not sure,” she flashed an apologetic smile, “this is all new to me.”

“In that case you're having a champagne cocktail!”

“Oh, yes, just the thing. Good thinking Margaret!” agreed Harry and drained her glass. Jonathan nodded in approval and set to work. “Now, what about we see if they can’t seat us, eh? I’m too ‘confined’ to be clambering back up onto this here stool!”

 

The Maître D’ escorted them to a booth upholstered in deeply buttoned black leather. It squeaked gently as they took their seats, Harry in the centre flanked by Joan on her right and Maggie to her left. Moments later, their cocktails had arrived and Joan was struck by the artistry involved in each drink, they looked so sophisticated and she felt slightly fraudulent as she drew her champagne flute towards her. 

“To Joan!” proposed Harry and the three women raised their glasses. “To you, Joanie, on your twenty first birthday, and to a long and happy life!” she clinked her glass against Joan's and beamed at her granddaughter as they drank.

 

“I’d like to propose a toast too, if I may?” Maggie said, “here’s to you, Harry, for giving Joan a decent family at last. You didn’t have to, and I’m eternally grateful that you did.” Joan's heart swelled at Maggie's evident depth of feeling.

The old woman blushed and started to protest but Joan interrupted. “No, she’s right, Gran, these last few months have been out of this world. I can’t begin to explain how much you mean to me,” she touched her glass to Maggie's and then Harry’s. “I suppose then, that just leaves me to say something,” Joan swallowed hard and raised her glass high. “To my mum, who should still be here with us now,” she looked to her gran and they shared a sad smile. Sophia would have been thirty-eight; it was no age at all…

“To Sophia,” echoed Harry, “happy birthday, love,” and she reached out to gently grip Joan's fingers. Her attention was drawn to Joan's jewellery. “That’s pretty, is it new?”

“Yes, Maggie gave it to me for my birthday,” beamed Joan and removed the gold locket that hung between her breasts. She opened it and held it out to Harry so that she could see the photographs it contained. “See? It’s you and Mum,” she caught Maggie's tender gaze and smiled lovingly as Harry squinted at the tiny portraits.

Harry looked up at Maggie and to Joan. Hmm, she thought to herself. “So that’s what you wanted those negatives for, is it?” she asked Maggie.

“Yeah, it’s a Ferguson tradition. The boys get signet rings and the girls get lockets. I thought that it’d be nice to continue it on even though Joan's not technically family.”

 

“So what about you, dear? Joan tells me you were billeted here through your job. I’m so glad that she has a friend she can rely on here. Are you married? Divorced?” Harry asked bluntly.

Maggie almost choked on her drink. “No!” she sputtered and started coughing.

“Gawd, if I’d have known that it would affect you this badly, I’d never have asked!” Harry chuckled as she patted Maggie on the back. “So, no husband then. I’m surprised, though, a good-looking girl like you still single. I bet you’ve left a trail of broken hearts along the way, but.”

“I have high standards, Harry,” croaked Maggie with a smile.

“That’s no bad thing if you ask me,” Harry replied approvingly. Maggie's gaze flickered over Joan, their eyes locking long enough for Harry to understand that there was definitely more to this friendship of theirs than met the eye. Aww, she thought, smiling to herself, they _like_ each other.

 

The food was good and the conversation even better (well, most of it). Maggie and Harry got on like a house on fire, they discovered a shared devotion to cricket, which left Joan smiling blankly as they launched into a heated discussion as to whether or not Bower was capable of rallying the team for the final test match. But once they’d finally dispensed with sport, the topics flowed like the wine, they touched on everything from property to politics, from film to fashion - which they all agreed was no substitute for style – until they were the last diners in the restaurant and the waiters were taking it in turns to hover by their table, subtly clearing their throats in the hope that these tipsy trio would take the hint and bugger off.

 

*****

 

The taxi ride to the cottage seemed to take no time at all but instead of waving them goodbye and continuing on home, the old lady insisted on getting out of the taxi with them when it pulled up at Joan's. There was something she wanted to give her granddaughter she said, on the day of her majority.

And so, there they all were in Joan's lounge, Harry and Maggie in the big leather armchairs and Joan perched on the matching pouffe.

 

Harry greedily drained her scotch and soda and held out her glass to Maggie for a refill, then, fishing in her voluminous handbag she pulled out a slim package and looked at Joan a little blearily. “You’re all grown up now Joanie, look at you! A fresh start, you’ve got your whole life ahead of you but you mustn’t forget where you came from, so I’m giving you this.” Guzzling her fresh drink, she watched as Joan unwrapped the fancy paper. It was the portrait of Bathishwa.

Joan looked at her gran in astonishment, “are you sure?” This was such a precious, important thing that she was being given.

Harry tweaked the pale grey sweater back onto Joan's shoulder and smiled reassuringly, “of course I’m sure! And if you have a daughter then it’ll go to her when she leaves home.” Joan and Maggie exchanged glances.

 

They disappeared into the kitchen leaving Harry happily finishing her drink – Joan to make coffee and Maggie to smoke a cigarette at the back door.

“So that was your Persian Princess, was it?” Wreathed in coiling smoke, Maggie leaned against the door frame and allowed herself to relax a little. It had been hard work playing it straight tonight although she thought that she and Joan had acquitted themselves pretty well considering how drunk they all were.

“Assyrian, actually, _Margaret_.” Joan dried the coffee pot and slid it onto the hotplate as the dark, aromatic liquid began to emerge in slow, heavy drips.

“I’d never been in the presence of Royalty before, and now here I am with two of you!” Grinning widely Maggie turned and gave a low bow, “I’m at your service, your Majesty!”

“Oh, shut up!” laughed Joan and flicked a tea towel at Maggie's bum.

“Is that the best you can do?” teased Maggie, “I’ve had worse mozzie bites.” Rolling the tea towel into a rope, Joan took aim and snapped it hard at her target. “Ahhh,” grinned Maggie rubbing her buttock, “now that’s more like it!”

 

Joan joined Maggie by the door and kissed her deeply, she pressed hard against her lover and shivered with lust as Maggie stroked her naked back. She felt invincible and her senses sang, inflamed as they were with alcohol and lust. “Mmm, I can’t believe that you’ve only been here for three days,” she murmured into Maggie's neck and backed up against the counter, pulling Maggie with her.

 

With a shrug, Joan's sweater fell to her waist. Maggie's strong hands found her breasts, squeezing them hard then stroking Joan's nipples lightly until she was sliding onto the counter and opening her legs, dragging Maggie closer as her excitement grew. Joan lifted Maggie's camisole to get at her tits. They were squashed to her chest in a strapless bra which easily succumbed to eager tugging.

“Joan,” gasped Maggie as hot hands encased her jutting breasts. God how she wanted this gorgeous creature but for decency’s sake she had to hold out just a little longer. “Harry’s only next door…”

“It’s OK, I’ll keep an eye out.” Her dark eyes shone brightly as, taking Maggie's hand, Joan placed it on her bare thigh and guided it under the fabric of her skirt. Maggie resisted but Joan was determined; pulling firmly on Maggie's wrist she grazed the older woman’s fingers against her swollen sex. She held her breath as Maggie's finger slid inside the leg of her silky underwear.

Fuck decency! Grabbing the back of Joan's head, Maggie kissed her hard and deep, her tongue dominating Joan's as she worked her fingers between slippery outer lips. “God, how I want you, Joan,” she muttered as Joan's white teeth pulled at her lower lip.

“Oh, Maggie, me too,” she eyed the spluttering machine to their right, it was barely half-way through brewing but she didn’t care – she’d use the decorative coffee cans she’d picked up at a flea market instead of the mugs. “But you're right. You call a cab for Gran whilst I sort the coffee, and then you can have me,” she tweaked Maggie's nipple, making the other woman twitch in surprise, “ – however you want me…”

 

Harry didn’t seem to notice how flushed the two younger women looked when they returned, in fact, it looked like she was having trouble focusing as her head lolled like a balloon on a stick. “Ooh, coffee! Just what the doctor ordered,” she exclaimed, straightening up, “but I know, let’s liven these up a bit! Margaret, do the honours please,” she demanded, waving expansively towards the bottle of single malt. She frowned as Maggie hesitated, “come on, girl, it’s a celebration!”

“You're never going to get a taxi to take her back home tonight, not in that state,” murmured Maggie into Joan's ear. “Looks like she’s bunking here. Come on, let’s get this over with and get her upstairs before she’s totally gone.”


	7. Chapter 7

They wrestled a comatose Harry out of her dress and shoes and it took a team effort to release her from the grip of her girdle. “Well, now I feel like I know Harry a lot better than I should!” laughed Maggie as they manhandled her into the sleigh bed and covered her with a blanket.

“Me too!” giggled Joan as she wrapped the sturdy black waist nipper around her middle and pulled it tight. “What d’you think?” she asked as she spun around and wobbled, “is it me?” 

“More than you know,” groaned Maggie as images of Joan in a full corset and suspenders flooded her imagination, “get in that bedroom now!”

With a squeal of delight, Joan hurried out of the room and across the landing, leaving Maggie to quickly fetch Harry a glass of water from the bathroom and a couple of towels to mop up any unfortunate incidents.

 

Joan was gloriously naked when Maggie entered. She surged from the bed and frantically began tugging at Maggie's trousers, her hot mouth sliding down her lover's soft stomach as Maggie ripped off her top and bra. Breathing hard around their kisses, they made it to the bed and tumbled across the large mattress as they pressed into each other’s body with desperate need. Joan had pulled the mirrored screen alongside the bed but they were too preoccupied to enjoy their reflections just yet.

 

Urgently stroking Joan's sticky thatch, Maggie opened her up and smeared creamy musk over her swollen sex as the wriggling girl pushed her onto her back. Joan quickly straddled Maggie's hips and began kissing her hotly. Her cunt leaked pungent wetness onto Maggie's as she rocked into her amazing body. Her eager hands found Maggie's tits and she drew back to gaze at them as she cupped them in her hands like they were precious ivory orbs studded with two nuggets of darkest carnelian. “Will you fuck me with your cock?” she asked thickly, lifting her eyes to Maggie’s, “fuck me like you said you would?”

Maggie raised her eyebrows in surprised delight. “Go and get it then,” she grinned dirtily, “it’s in the red shoebox, bottom of the wardrobe.” Joan bounced off the bed and yanked the door open, banging it squarely into her shoulder in her haste.

 

With a practiced hand Maggie cinched the straps and slid the thick black dildo into place, then stepped onto the bed and positioned herself at the top of the mattress, settling her bare back against a pile of pillows and the slanted headboard as she curled a beckoning finger to Joan. The flawlessly sexy creature straddled her once more and pulled on the length of firm rubber that sprang from Maggie's mons as she twisted at a swollen pink nipple. Maggie shuddered as a wave of lust burst from her cunt and wracked her body – jesus, she needed to fuck this girl! Quickly squeezing a bulb of lube into her palm Maggie anointed her cock and tickled Joan's protruding clit with its slick head before pushing it against the softness of her glistening entrance.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Maggie encouraged as Joan's hips began to swivel and she sank onto the thick shaft until she was riding it with whimpering gasps of amazement. “look at yourself, Joan,” cruelly digging her fingers into Joan's swaying breasts Maggie motioned to their reflection and together they watched their lean bodies give and take pleasure no words could define.

Unable to hold out any longer, Maggie leaned forward and drew Joan's face down to her own, kissing her mercilessly as she thrust her hips upwards and fucked Joan hard, giving in to the overwhelming need that that had been sawing at her nerves all night.

 

Sliding up and down Maggie's cock Joan rapidly became incapable of sound. She began to tingle all over, feeling the familiar tightness gathering in her belly, and her cries and groans that usually came so freely escaped her throat as thin, hoarse whistles. Not even when Maggie's mouth dropped to her tits and she began to stretch out her nipples between clamped teeth did she emit more than a hoarse rasp, her tingling lips drawn back in a lascivious snarl.

 

Rolling sideways, Maggie wrapped long, coltish legs around her waist and slipped her hands under Joan's shoulders, gripping them as she slammed into Joan's cunt. Her throbbing clit beat time with her thundering pulse and her swollen labia slipped maddeningly against each other in the confines of the harnesses’ tight crotch straps. Sweat began to bead at her hairline and soon it was sliding down her temples as the rest of her body glowed with a gathering sheen of exertion.

“Look at me, Joan,” she ordered. “Open your eyes and look at me. See me.” Panting hard, Maggie stared down into Joan's dazed face as she tried to obey; the girl managed to hold her intense stare for a few moments before her lids fluttered shut and she clawed at Maggie's back with a silent groan.

 

The intensity with which Maggie took her made Joan feel like the most desirable woman on the planet, and she knew that a stream of wetness was positively flowing from her as she squeezed the solid cock with strong muscles, making it feel even bigger, even better. Unexpectedly, Joan found her voice, “ohh, god, I love you, Maggie! Fuck me! Fuck meeee!” she pleaded, digging her short nails into the firm curves of Maggie's arse. Her open mouth latched onto Maggie's neck before she buried her face in the older woman’s shoulder, eyes screwed shut against the driving, addictive sensation that coursed through her entire body.

“Like this?” Maggie grunted. Gripping the edge of the mattress, she found traction with her toes and fucked her girl with a steady, pounding rotation of her hips, increasing the intensity of her thrusts in response to Joan's strengthening moans until sweat was pouring from her. 

 

Joan spread her legs wider, feeling Maggie's cock pushing deeper still into her tight cunt. It made her jolt bonelessly as she was filled so completely that any more, and she felt that she would split clean apart. A slight tilt of her pelvis brought her rigid clit into firm contact with the warm leather of Maggie's harness and she almost choked on her sob of ecstasy.  Oh fuck, it felt good! Sooo good! Oh god, so good! Oh god, fuuuuck it was sooo goood!

Her orgasm battered her without warning and she stiffened under the sudden, blinding rush of pleasure, silently biting deep into Maggie's shoulder as she quaked and fought for breath. The cock continued to stroke her insides, making her writhe and shudder as she searched for Maggie's mouth with her own, drawing life from her lover’s kiss. She felt sublimely sated.

 

But before she even had any feeling back in her fingers Joan was reaching for the buckles on Maggie's harness, desperate for unrestricted access to her beautiful cunt. She felt a fierce need to make Maggie feel as good as she did right now. She wanted to fuck her, to possess her, to drive her wild…! 

With a gentle tug Maggie pulled free of Joan and slipped the fastenings at her hips, sliding the strap-on down her thighs and kicking it off the bed before grabbing a pillow and shimmying onto her back. “C’m ‘ere,” she murmured with a saucy wink, parting her thighs as Joan rolled on top of her.

 

Immediately thrusting her fingers into Maggie's slick folds, Joan rubbed the underside of her clit before sinking three long fingers deep into the scalding grip of her vagina. Her tongue invaded Maggie's mouth and she swallowed the moans of pleasure rising from Maggie's throat as her fingers repeatedly withdrew and returned to the slippery, swollen meat, massaging the length of the heaving woman’s dusky treasure before plunging back inside to curl and flex.

 

With sloppy, passionate kisses she worked her way down to Maggie's breast, clamping her mouth around the crinkled brown volcano of her nipple and sucking hard and she jammed her face into the soft, hot flesh as her own cunt throbbed with excitement. The reaction in Maggie was instant and her hips jerked, muscles tightening around Joan's sodden fingers as they pumped hard and fast, and then Joan slid lower, slipping between Maggie's legs and lowering her lips to kiss the velvety skin of her firm inner thighs.  Her shining face burned with exhilaration and she took a couple of steadying breaths before bringing her mouth so close to Maggie's dark, swollen sex that she could taste her perfumed musk on the moist air as it slipped over her tongue.

 

Maggie could barely move.  The electric bolts generated by Joan's lips on her skin seemed to weld her to the mattress, and her rapid moans gave way to a long, lusty groan as hot breath bathed her sticky lips. Her eyes locked with Joan's and something primal and ancient passed between them, and then her whole being seemed to dissolve as a dizzying wet heat enveloped her.

She grew harder and harder as Joan's tongue worked the top of her clit. She could hardly breathe, so extreme was her arousal, she was going to come so hard! “Slow your fingers right down but for god’s sake, don’t stop!” she begged, “slower…ffuck! That’s it! Ohhhh…!!” she cried. Maggie focused on the steady, solid thrust of Joan's fingers and slowed her breathing as she absorbed the strengthening waves of bliss that radiated from her core and heralded her climax.

 

Jack-knifing under its steel grip, Maggie bore down on Joan's fingers, her animal shout loud and harsh in the sudden quiet of the night. Her eyes rolling behind closed lids, she careened deep into the heart of a supernova of sensory overload, and she hung there in its centre as her body fought to survive the near-deathlike bliss that crushed and twisted it until she lay exhausted and gasping desperately for air, the room slowly reassembling around her as Joan crawled into her arms. 

 

“Do you know that I may never use this hand again?” Joan teased softly, flexing her wrinkled fingers.

“Now that would be a real shame,” she replied with a sleepy grin. “Happy birthday, Joan.”

“I love you Maggie,” whispered Joan as she snuggled into her woman’s shoulder.

Kissing Joan’s tousled crown, Maggie whispered back, “I love you too, my darling.” She felt Joan's cheek bunch in a huge smile and then slacken as she relaxed her long frame into hers.  A twinge of guilt nipped fleetingly at her conscience as she thought of all the times she’d told that to lovers, and how every word had been a lie because, she realised, until now, she hadn’t known what real love was.

 

*****

 

Edging her way into Joan's room, Harry placed the tray of tea and toast on the chest of drawers and turned to survey the late sleepers. They lay curled up together, naked as the day they were born. Scratches littered Maggie's back. “Oh, you girls!” she said softly, smiling to herself, and perched on the corner of the bed, twitching the edge of the dark red tartan dressing gown that she’d found on the back of Margaret’s door over her bare knee.

 

“Rise and shi- _ine_!” she trilled and shook them both by a foot. Harry chuckled as the two women woke with a startled jerk and tried to cover themselves with the tangled sheet, their hung-over faces broadcasting the shock of their discovery. “I wondered just how close you two were, you know,” she stated with a conspiratorial wink.

Joan studied her grandmother’s indulgent expression in stunned amazement and ran her tongue nervously over her bottom lip. “You're not angry?” she asked uncertainly, darting a worried look at Maggie.

“No, of course not!” exclaimed Harry in surprise.

“Not even a little bit shocked?” Joan glanced at Maggie again and saw surprised relief in her face.

“Why should I be? It runs in the family. My auntie had it, so did my brother, and I reckon your mum did as well.”

“It’s not a disease,” muttered Maggie with a frown.

“No, I know that, dear,” soothed Harry and patted her leg, “call it our version of having red hair.” She turned to Joan, “and whoever you choose to love is OK by me – providing they’re honest and thoughtful, and brave,” she added almost as an afterthought. Harry laughed as Maggie shot Joan a look of comic worry, “Don’t worry, Margaret, I reckon she’s on to a winner with you.”

Maggie grinned and scrubbed her elegant fingers through her short hair. “Harry?” she asked, “seeing as the ice is well and truly broken now, d’you reckon you could call me Maggie?”


End file.
